Leadership and Self Deception

You know how you sometimes finish watching a movie or reading a book and you have to take a minute to remember where you are… because you were so caught up in the story?  That was my experience in reading this book.  I highly recommend it.

My behavior—and attitude—toward others has already changed during this past week since reading the book, Leadership and Self-Deception, Getting Out of the Box, by the Arbinger Institute. 

It’s a simple read, written in story form, similar to “The One Minute Manager.” Yet for all its simplicity it packs a powerful punch with profound implications, much like the parables of Jesus.  Through the story of an employee who faces the fresh challenge of a new job, a new company, a “tired” marriage and a less-than-ideal relationship with his son, the authors reveal the way “we can blind ourselves to our true motivations and unwittingly sabotage the effectiveness of our own efforts to achieve success” in our work, and joy in our most important relationships.

Truth be told, I found it to be a modern parable of Romans 12.  Really.  In how we regard, work with, tolerate and treat others, but written in the context and language of business.  Which puts a fresh twist on a concept many of us are familiar with but have a hard time carrying out—and don’t know why.  This book helps reveal “the why,” which is why I found it so compelling and why I believe its message is so profound.

There’s something about stories that invite us into their action quickly, lowers our defenses, and excites something inside of us.  Before we know it the story compels us to consider a perspective of truth that we might otherwise have dismissed or ignored. 

This kind of truth, which has to do with the heart, cannot easily be taught as a piece of knowledge, to be learned, stored for future reference, and then used at a later time when the moment calls for it.  No, this is a more profound, character-shaping truth, that is best communicated in story.  That’s why Jesus so often used parables, instead of a didactic teaching of the Law, like the other religious leaders of his day.  Parables draw you in and before you know it, you recognize yourself, your family, and your friends in the characters of the parable.  It’s self-discovery rather than didactic.  Which always bears deeper personal ownership.  And leads to genuine change.

Sky is the Limit for Christianity in China

Hardly a week goes by anymore that the exponetial growth of Christianity in China doesn't seep into the news somehow. 

In 1949 when Chairman Mao took over and soon chased out or put to death the leaders and clergy of the church it seemed like the end of an era.  Maybe the end of time for Chinese Christians.  Yet today, millions and millions of new Chinese are embracing the Christian faith like never before, says the World Council of Churches (WCC). 

Three days ago Christian Today  reported that Mathews George Chunakara, Director of WCC's International Affairs and Public Witness, said there had been a "unique and explosive growth" of Christianity among the Chinese people.

"I have been visiting China for the last 15 years. I am astounded to see the tremendous growth there. Their worship places are now overflowing," Chunakara told Christian Today.

"It is not just the poor you see in churches, even the rich and educated are embracing Christianity. Beijing and Shanghai are the proof,” he added.

The ecumenical leader compared freedom of religion in the country now to a decade ago, when the church kept a tight grip on the goings on in churches. He said the situation had "much improved" and that the government was now starting to "favour" religious people.

"The Chinese government will not raid unless provoked. Now being the fastest growing economy, they know the importance of a harmonious society. To promote such a society, they are giving religion a special role," says Chunakara.

 For instance, the Communist Government amended the Constitution two years ago to accommodate the role of religion.

 "You could not expect such a thing to happen 15 years ago," Chunakara said.

When you read about the explosive growth of Christianity in China, do you ever wonder... why?  What is it about the Christian faith that is so attractive to Chinese?  What do so many Chinese "see" in Jesus that they don't see in Budhism, or Shintoism, or Hinduism? 

The answers may be a no-brainers for Christians, but it's still a cultural phenonmenon that one can't help but sit up and take notice, no matter what your religious views or background.

The People of Medicine Lake

Toast and I decided last night to walk around Medicine Lake. To see if we could do it. Around the whole lake—all 7.8 miles of it. I’ve never walked around a whole lake before, at least one that is of any decent size. We made it just fine in about two hours with just a short stop for Toast to take a swimming break (her favorite thing!). My hips are sore this morning and I’m a little tired, but otherwise, feeling great. Toast is conked out on the floor—sleeping.

Tons of people were out last night… walking, riding bikes, sitting by the lake talking, walking their dogs, kids swimming at the beaches.

I feel funny meeting people on the walking path, pretending we don’t notice each other as we pass within 24 inches of each other. So I usually greet people. Most people try not to make eye contact as we approach each other, I notice. But when I greet them they almost always seem happy to greet me back. (Why wouldn’t they? We’re all come from the same species after all.)

It probably helps to have a dog walking with me. “You can trust people with dogs.” (That’s what one woman told me recently.) Especially if they’re holding a filled poop bag (which I did for about 1.5 miles until I could find a garbage). I mean, who walks around with a filled poop bag except only the very conscientious, responsible type? So, what’s not to trust?

I passed a herd of women. Walking—or getting in shape—for a breast cancer walk. They had official-looking tags around their necks. Two groups of them—probably 6 in the first group and 3 in the second. The second group was especially friendly (maybe because they were less “driven,” since they were the slower group). They got all cutesy about Toast and smiled a lot.

Women are especially enamored with Toast, I’ve noticed. They’ll smile and say things like “pretty dog.” Or, “what a beautiful dog.” Sometimes a guy will say something similar, but it’s rare, and it’s always an older guy who’s usually walking a dog himself.

There were not as many guys walking and biking as women. And they were usually with a gal, biking or running. Guys usually are riding a bike rather than walking. They seem more intense—riding for a workout. Whereas most of the women seem to be walking… usually with another gal, and fully engaged in conversation. One guy who was stopped on his bike, looking at the map of the lake, obliged me and took the shot of me and Toast on my cell phone.

One big German Shepherd was especially jealous of Toast when she got to go swimming. The Shepherd wanted to go too, but was constrained to just sit and watch as Toast jumped in and played fetch with a stick from the shore.

We passed one group of women who were sitting at the park at a picnic table planning out their next Bible study, or book study. I overheard them debating whether they should begin with a prayer or not and trying to figure out how “spiritual” to make it.

I think you could easily walk around the same lake, meet the same people, and conclude that “people are just not very friendly.” Maybe they aren’t, really. But maybe they are. Maybe it just depends on your own demeanor and perspective. I find that most strangers on the walking path are happy to greet others, and are usually very friendly, but they usually don’t initiate it. But since I like to greet people… I’ve found that people around Medicine Lake are usually a pretty friendly bunch. (Toast agrees.)

Made in China

What made this Chinese dinner particularly delicious was Yuan's own words when we asked him how it tasted: "Ummm, just like home."

After 7,000 miles of travel by jet, four days of living in an unfamiliar country, in an unfamiliar culture, with an unfamiliar host-family, eating unfamiliar food, on a 13-hour time-difference schedule, breathing unfamiliar cooler air, walking among unfamiliar Anglo people, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed... it was time for something familiar. It was time for a little bit of "home."

Yuan and Youkang asked if they could cook FOR US, since we had been cooking for them these last four days after arriving from China. “Sure!” (A night off, we naively thought.)

MJ took them to Cub—first grocery store they had seen in the U.S. It was HUGE. But they loved the “Asian Aisle.” It was filled with just what they needed. MJ thought she should buy more pork—10 oz. would not nearly be enough! But Yuan was insistent. So, she bought only what they needed… some mushrooms, cabbage, pork slices, tomatoes, and "Chinese soy sauce"--none of that U.S.--type stuff.

“The secret to Chinese cooking” Youkang told us “is high heat and plenty of oil.” MJ and I watched. “Hovered” I suppose you could say. But they did just fine, electric heat and all (electric burners are hard to control). We laughed and learned in the kitchen that night (sounds like Alpha!) as they prepared and cooked the food. Fried eggs and stewed tomatoes mixed together, fried cabbage (uummm!), fried pork in a special flour batter (uummm!), and, of course, rice.

It was delicious. No matter how hard we had tried to cook food that would be familiar to them with our best “Chinese” touches and knowledge, it just wasn’t quite the genuine thing. THIS meal was definitely MADE IN CHINA.

I asked if I could pray for them… “bless them,” as we sat down to eat. This was our gift to them each evening over dinner. We are growing fond of our new friends. And we want them to experience the fullness of God’s love.

Lawn-Mowing 101

The things you take for granted. Like lawn-mowing, for example.

As our two Chinese students were getting in my truck to go get cell phones Merlajean was rolling the lawnmower out of the garage. As exciting as “finally getting connected” would be, AND making their first purchase in the USA… the little four-wheel machine with “HONDA” stamped on its side caught their eye and wouldn’t let go.

There they stood, frozen mid-step in the driveway, insatiably curious as my wife pulled on the starter rope. (Yup, it started on the first pull. Always does.) As the roar of the machine drowned out any further conversation, they inched closer to watch as my wife flipped the transmission to “drive” and took off across the lawn, shaving a nice clean path down the middle of the shaggy lawn!

Forget the cell phones. They wanted in on the action! So my wife proceeded to teach them how to run the lawnmower across the lawn… which levers to push and which ones to pull. Yuan went first. Away it went! A little faster than he expected. He ended up doing a wheelie up the hillside! Youkang was next. He too bordered on doing wheelies and running level. Up and down they went.

I snuck inside to get my camera and snapped a few pics. (For their mama’s, of course.)

Then they stood and watched Merlajean for a while. Funny. The things you take for granted. It never occurred to me that neither one had never cut the grass before. But then, why would they have? There’s very little private lawn to mow where they live.

As we hopped in the truck and headed for the cell phone store, I realized the joke was really on me: I just passed up the opportunity to give them a “free gift” of operating our mower as they mowed our lawn!

Hosting x2

“Could we take another Chinese student?” Phyllis asked? “Let me talk with my wife about it,” I responded as my mind quickly scanned a mental check-list of reasons “for” and “against” it.

Let's see... we just moved into our new home 3 weeks ago. Our living room is scattered with ladders, paint cans and tarps and furniture stacked up in the middle of the room. Both guest bedrooms look the same way. The basement is filled with tons of unopened boxes. The garage is a disaster. My mother is just emerging from brain cancer surgery and needs care. I've just returned from 6 days with my son at Olympic National Park. Oh, and by the way... I have a job. Remember?

I put my cell phone down as I continued driving up to St. Cloud to visit my recuperating mother. "Hmmm. Can we take another student?" The prospects don't look good.

The “we-can-do-everything” side of me was already making plans to host this other student while my weaker “wait-a-second-let’s-think-this-through” side of me was stepping on the brakes with both feet!

As I prayed about it the next morning just after I had come up with six solid reasons that it would probably not work out at this time, I heard a clear voice say:

“Daaahhh! Who cares if the bedroom is not painted yet? Who cares if the living room has ladders and paint tarps scattered about? Who cares if there’s no room in the garage to walk? Who cares if there are no pictures up yet? Let’s look at the facts: 1. You have two empty bedrooms in your home. 2. Two new graduate students from China need a place to land for several days after they fly in from China, begin to get settled, get registered, open bank accounts, get cell phones, find an apartment, prepare for classes at the U., etc.”

“Well….?” I heard the voice say. “OK, we’ll do it,” I said. “When you put it like that, it’s a no-brainer.” And it is. My wife agreed.

If I was the visiting student, for example, I would ask myself, “would I rather sleep on the street, or in an unpainted bedroom?” It’s a no-brainer. Right?

I’m glad God speaks to me so clearly sometimes. I’m even more glad when my brain is sufficiently unclogged to actually “hear” God’s voice, and my heart is sufficiently motivated to be agreeable. Because whenever you hear and follow God’s voice, you get blessed. And we have been. Tons.

Direct from China

I wasn’t sure what I would say when I saw Yuan for the first time. Maybe, “Welcome to the USA.” No, maybe “Welcome to America.” Or maybe just “Welcome” would be sufficient—said with a genuine, warm smile, of course.

At least, that’s what I thought I would appreciate if I had just packed up my life into three huge suitcases and left for China without knowing exactly who I would be staying with, where I would end up living, or if I was somehow being taken advantage of. Or even “set up?” (When you take such a big step into the unknown your mind plays all kinds of games with you.)

To my surprise there were lots of other Anglos in the Waiting Area of MSP, where all the international flights empty out, each ready with their warm smiles and rehearsed lines to say when “their” student appeared. Then, as if on cue, as each “Chinese-looking-student” appeared from out of the Customs area, we each held up our hand-made cards with the name of our student printed in large black letters. And each of the students would carefully scan each card—without appearing to scan each card, of course, since they still had that “teen-age edge” to them. As each student spotted “their” name and Host Family they suddenly broke into a huge smile, and you could watch a sense of relief and calm unfold across their face.

I caught Yuan’s eye as he appeared from out of Customs. He had emailed a picture of himself, as I had to him, so I had a sense of what he looked like. Our eyes met and locked. Somehow… we just knew. I held up my card anyway and he came straight-away toward me, with—you guessed it—a huge smile. We shook hands and after saying “hello” I uttered my line, “Welcome to America.”

It’s amazing, really, that two strangers who live 7,000 miles from each other, can, upon meeting each other, break out in genuine warm smiles and greet each other. Which says that… when you get right down to it, we’re all pretty much the same, aren’t we?

18 month-old Golden Retriever CHEAP! (Part 1)

by Merlajean Gartland

18 Month-old Golden Retriever CHEAP!
Answers to the name of "Toast" and/or "Bad Dog".

She is the perfect dog if you can live with the following:

You can never go anywhere because:
--You cannot put her in a crate or she will throw herself from side to side so that, when you let her out, she limps and you’ll have to take her to the vet, who wants to call in an orthopedic surgeon.
--If you decide to crate her anyway she will pee on herself, which requires bathing her and washing everything in her crate when you get home. (This can be especially annoying if you have a day when you are in and out.)
--If you leave her in the bathroom she will unroll the toilet paper, pull out all the Kleenex, and rip up the bath mat and towels.
--If you leave her in your bedroom, she will rip up your blinds, even if they are new.
--If you leave her in the garage she will frantically claw at the door to the house, scratching it and taking the paint off.
--If you leave her in the garage she will chew through all the knots of the rope that you’ve used to tie the boat’s tarp on with. More than once. She will also chew the handle off of the starter-rope on the lawnmower, making the rope disappear into the mower. Again, more than once.
--You can’t leave her with your sister-in-law for the weekend because, while she’s hanging freshly washed clothes in the basement, she’ll see something dripping on them from upstairs. She’ll go up to see that the dog has peed. She will say ‘Never again’.

You cannot have company because:
--She jumps on people, which annoys adults and terrifies kids.
-- If you hug someone, she will wedge her body between you.
--If you boil a chicken to use in a casserole, you will put it in a strainer in the sink to cool while you go upstairs to do a quick errand. When you come back, the bird will be on the floor with both leg/thigh portions and one wing missing.
--She will chew your guests' shoes, purse, briefcase, glasses, wallets, hats/mittens/coat, sweater, cell phone, contact lenses (case and all). This can get expensive.

You cannot take her anywhere in the car because:
-- if you have to run in somewhere for just a minute, a woman will run in the store a few seconds later yelling that someone’s dog just crawled out of a sun roof (which, being the good dog owner that you are, you have left open so the dog gets fresh air), walked all over the car and is now tearing around the parking lot.
--If you close the sun roof ¾ of the way and go back into the store, a boy will come running in yelling that someone’s dog just crawled out of a sun roof, walked all over the car and is now tearing around the parking lot.
--If you run into the library you will come back to find the driver’s seat and steering wheel covered with anxious "I-thought-you-were-never-coming-back!" drool.

(Read more on Part II)

18 month-old Golden Retriever CHEAP! (Part 2)

18 month-old Golden Retriever CHEAP! (Part 2)
by Merlajean Gartland

She is the perfect dog if you can live with the following:

You can’t leave her in the yard alone because:
--She will chew all the branches off of the bushes in the front yard and then do it again when you’ve replaced them with new bushes.
--She will incessantly bark at anything that looks different: the garbage can is at the end of the drive way, the sprinkler is on, the neighbor’s sprinkler is on.
--If the battery to the electric fence dies, she will sense it immediately and take off on a tour of your neighbor's back yards, gardens and garages.
--She will dig.

If you take her to Obedience School:
--She will behave marvelously at home when you have food. If you are not inside your own house or do not have food, she will look at you like you’re speaking Greek.
--She will follow no commands while at class. She will just bark, bark, and bark to let you know that she wants to play with the other (good) dogs.
--You can never leave a door open in the house or she will retrieve your underwear from the bedroom closet , pictures from your night stand, your computer mouse from the office, brushes/sponges from the laundry room.

A good dog is a tired dog, but:
--You cannot take her down to the lake to swim because, after fetching the stick only once, she will hunt for dead fish, which she will give a few chomps on and then swallow whole before you have a chance to get it away from her. Or roll in it.
--You cannot take her to the park to play fetch because, after retrieving the ball only once, she will run off chasing bunnies, which, if she catches one (and she will) she will treat it the same way she treats dead fish.
-- You can never hold on to her leash as you bike because she will get spooked when a bag blows across the road and put on her brakes, which means you’ll get a ride to the Emergency Room in an ambulance.

If you let her sleep on the floor of your bedroom, you will wake up each and every morning to find her in bed with you.

Bidding starts today with an opening bid of $1.00. Bidding ends 12/31/2024.
No refunds. No returns.

Contact me at: mj@mjpuppet.com

(PS: The next time I get a pet, it’s going to be a minnow.)

Fasting for Larry

May 2, 2009. I’ve been meaning to fast and pray for quite some time, but I just never seem to get to it. Until Thursday. Now it was urgent. And maybe that’s what it requires in the first place: an urgency.

One of our House Church members had a “suspicious mass” show up in a CAT scan, so he was referred down to Mayo for a closer look on Thursday.

Our group was stunned when we heard the news. Larry is so healthy!

Since our group had just started to study fasting, we decided to just do it. We would fast and pray on Thursday, throughout the day, for Larry while he ran through a battery of tests. That Tuesday evening in our group meeting we anointed him in the name of Jesus and prayed for our brother. He said it was already bringing him great strength just to know that we would be fasting and praying throughout the day.

I didn’t remember it being so difficult. Fasting, that is. The morning was pretty normal. But around lunch time my stomach went on strike and let me know it for the rest of the day. Which is what a fast is all about: giving up something as an act of faith and sacrifice.

Our House Church gave up food for a day as an act of sacrifice to demonstrate our sincerity before God as we prayed for Larry. The lack of food functioned as a constant alarm clock, reminding us to pray throughout the day. The act of fasting itself demonstrated our oneness with our brother. We would voluntarily suffer a few hours without food, while he involuntarily suffered an invasion of his body by unknown forces.

We received the preliminary results around 3:15—an encouraging prognosis!

That night I savored plain white rice with a little butter. Rice never tasted so good. Unity with my brother Larry never felt so good either. And the prayer-mode that I entered into that day was new, and rich, and deep.

A totally out-of-the-box, brand new, ground-breaking approach to the economic crisis!

I just finished watching Gov Arnold Schwartzenegger being interviewed on ABC’s “This Week with George Stephanopoulos.” I was absolutely stunned in amazement by the governor’s ground-breaking approach to solving the $42 Billion economic crisis in the state of California. Somehow he’s figured out how to bring both Republicans and Democrats together to solve the largest state deficit in the nation this year. Forty-nine other governors have been racking their brains trying to figure this out too for their own states, and for the nation. Not to mention Obama, the Fed, and all the others.

Arnold’s solution? “Listen to the people.” He said that to get out of this emergency situation the people asked for two things: spending cuts and tax increases. So that's what he's doing.

Stunning, isn’t it? Who woulda thunk? I’m not even sure I know what "listen to the people" means, do you? I remember reading about this out-of-the-box concept in my 6th grade civics class, but only as a theory, of course. No one ever really practices it! At least that’s been my experience. Until today, listening to Arnold.

The concept is probably as unfamiliar to you as it is to me. So let me explain. (First, I have to dust off my brain cells in this area.) I think the basic idea is that as “public servants” (Gov. Schwartzenegger’s term, not mine) your primary responsibility is to “do what is right for the people” that you govern, not what is necessarily right for your party.

Wow. Crazy huh? I KNOW that this is a very difficult concept to get your head around, friends. But—please!—try to stay with me. I thought the whole idea of a “public servant” disappeared long ago from our vernacular. In fact, wasn’t it about the same time (coincidently) that “elected office” transitioned into a stepping stone to further one’s career into a more lucrative job offers down the road? The idea of actually listening to what the people are asking for, and then drawing up policy based on that is… well, antithetical to what political parties are all about, isn’t it?

When Stephanopoulos asked Schwartzenegger how the rest of his Republican Party is reacting to his leadership, Schwartzenegger responded that “we have to get beyond the fighting between the two parties—whether you’re a Democrat or a Republican—and do what’s best for the people.” There it is again! “Brilliant” is the only word I can come up to describe such radical thinking. I have no idea whether this vintage concept will ever catch on in a big-time way among members of the two parties. But just the thought of it makes me want to sit in the yoga “loctus” position for several hours just to reflect on the profundity of this idea! Don’t you too?

Toast Goes South on Vacation

It seemed like a great idea. My daughter had been wanting to get a dog for several months. We, on the other hand, had been gently counseling her on what a dog would actually require of her in her young adult, on-the-go life.

So when MJ and I had the chance to get away to the Sunshine State for a week in January (part-business, part-pleasure), we had only one big hurdle to jump: what to do with our dog “Toast” for seven days? One of us put two-and-two together and decided that Toast would go south on vacation too—to our daughter’s house in Chicago! (Hey—Toast loves the snow and cold weather, okay? She doesn’t need to know that no one goes “south” to Chicago on vacation.)

Okay, got the picture? Have dog, will travel (for a visit). A win-win deal.

So when I drove half-way to Chicago today to pick up Toast at the end of her two-week “vacation”… well, let’s just say that Janna has decided that she won’t be getting a dog anytime soon after all. It’s not that she hates dogs. Or Toast. It’s just that, well… dogs require a little more attention than what one might first think. Basically, they come into your house with one motto: “It’s all about me.”

What happened? Maybe the best way to describe it is to let you read the “Thank You” card that Toast gave to Janna today. It reads…

“Thank you for taking care of me when Mom and Dad went somewhere without me. I enjoyed almost everything—the curtains, shades, towels, toilet paper, Kleenex, the wallet (including the credit cards, dollar bills and pictures), and the chicken nuggets you laid out for me on the counter to defrost. Thanks again for all the walks, games of fetch and cuddle-time on the couch. I was on my best behavior, but if I wasn’t perfect, just remember that bad dogs have more fun! P.S. I was disappointed that I didn’t get a better look at your boyfriend’s new cell phone, since his old one was so fun to chew on last summer!”

Mob Hysteria at Sunset

At first we didn’t take much notice. Just an older couple dawdling along toward the direction of the beach. Then another couple. But as we strolled along, scoping out this unfamiliar neighborhood of tiny houses just a half a block from the beach, the street quickly and strangely filled with more and more people. So much so that it was un-nerving! But there was something that wasn’t quite right either… it took me a minute to decipher what it was.

That’s it! They were all walking in the same direction. Scary. Like one of those mass hysteria scenes that you see on movies when news comes over the TV that an impending asteroid is about to hit the earth, and everyone comes streaming out of their homes into the streets with blank bewildered looks in their eyes, resigned to face their own death within the next half hour!

Well, ok. Maybe it wasn’t quite that much mass hysteria. But it was strangely similar! Merlajean and I both wondered, “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Maybe a plane just went down in the ocean, like in New York.”

So we joined the panic-stricken mob and scurried down to the beach.

We headed toward a little park. Through palm trees. Over the grass. Around flowering bushes. And out into an opening. And there they all were. Dozens of people. Just standing around. Many were looking in the same direction. We quickly glanced in that direction and saw—the setting sun. It was a big, bright firey-orange ball, just hanging on the horizon. Hmmm. We quickly looked out to sea for signs of a tall black plumage of smoke. We scanned the horizon for rescue choppers. For cop cars. For panic-stricken dads and moms. Nothing.

So I struck up a conversation with the elderly couple six feet in front of us and asked them what was going on. “Just watchin’ the sun set,” they said. They could tell we were from out of town, so they let us in on their secret. “When you get to be our age, this is the most exciting thing that happens each day! Everyone comes out for it.”

We looked around. Sure enough, most of the crowd was 60 years-old-plus folks. Walter, the husband, told us that tonight wouldn’t be too spectacular since the sky was so clear. But last night—wow! It was something else! We struck up a warm conversation, and kidded and joked about coming down here to Florida from the Snowy North.

The sun had now set. Like clock-work, everyone all turned and began streaming off the beach, out of the park, back toward their homes. One more day had yet again slipped away from the people in the Sunshine State. They had come to pay their daily homage to this god. And in another twelve hours it would begin all over again. God willing.

20 Fun Facts to lighten your day

Mj and I picked up a copy of FUN FACTS, by David Letterman. I collected a few to share with you:

1. When it was introduced in 2001, the iPod was the size of a refrigerator and held two songs.

2. After you die, your tongue continues to grow.

3. The French Dip is consistently voted the world’s dampest sandwich.

4. At any given moment, 20 million men don’t realize that their fly is down.

5. In the days before limousines people flaunted their wealth by riding very long horses.

6. When a U.S. president dies, it is customary for his secret service agent to be executed and buried in an adjacent plot.

7. Wayne Gretzky prefers his soda without ice.

8. In 1978, a man found two snowflakes that were exactly alike, but they melted before it could be verified by the Guinness Book of World Records.

9. There are only three documented cases of people juggling in their sleep.

10. Twenty-two percent of grooms secretly try on their bride’s wedding gown.

11. The nickel is only 25% nickel; the dime is only 15% dime.

12. Although a lobster’s claw is strong enough to crack a walnut, lobsters don’t really care for walnuts.

13. Due to a typographical error, Ohio law mandates a three-day waiting period before you can buy gum.

14. Historians believe Amelia Earhart’s final flight got lost because her navigator, like most men, wouldn’t ask for directions.

15. No one in the world has been found to have a birthday on March 16.

16. Before a budget cut, the Lincoln Memorial’s chair was supposed to come with a matching ottoman.

17. Few ranchers actually use ranch dressing.

18. Contrary to the popular slogan, 68% of what happens in Vegas leads to divorce and/or bankruptcy.

19. Matthew is the only gospel that mentions Jesus being ticklish.

20. Hearses carrying a body are eligible to drive in the carpool lane.

A Wedding A Week

Do you like weddings? How about one every week... for a lifetime?

I’ve been reading Wolfgang Simpson’s book, Houses That Change the World, the Return of the House Churches. He compares the weekly Sunday morning gathering in a conventional church to a wedding celebration. Listen to what he writes…

“Life in any culture has two aspects, the private and the public, everyday life and the special events—weddings, festivals, funerals, and traditional events…. Everyday life is usually expressed in the family, the basic cell unit of every society and culture. Families are usually very organic, informal, relational and consist of whatever it takes to share lives. Weddings and other functions are extraordinary events, for which everyone duly prepares; they are usually formal, need much organization and are often highly structured.

“Imagine if you had to attend a wedding every weekend. It follows the same basic pattern, has even the same bridegroom and bride; maybe even the food is the same. After some weeks the excitement would wear down. You would know what to expect, and you would know what’s going to happen next. It would still remain a nice thing, a beautiful tradition, but it would feel odd to have the same type of festival every week.

“We need to be careful not to do this with church. Jesus has shown us not only a way to celebrate, but a way to live…. If we allow church to take on only ‘celebration structures,’ we will start celebrating ‘a wedding a week,’ and our behavior will soon be far removed from real life and cease to make sense to ordinary people. It will become an artificial, weekly performance.”

Does any of this ring true for you? The last two lines especially hit me in the gut: "removed from real life"... "weekly performance." Hmmm. It feels to me like Simpson has hit one out of the park. We hire professionals (I've been one of them) who work each week to organize the weekly “wedding celebration” FOR us. We give a lot of money to make the Celebration flashy, creative, lively and interesting. And yet—

And yet, national research studies have revealed that the lives of those who attend these “weekly wedding celebrations” don’t look much different from those who don’t. So maybe we’ve gotten the celebration part of Jesus’ message down, but we’ve missed the equally important “way to live” part. Anyway you slice it there does appear to be a disconnect between what we do each week in the “weekly Celebration,” and real life.

A Chat in the Woods

She appeared unexpectedly just 40 yards up the trail. My first instinct was to look between the trees to see if she had a dog before Toast could get a glimpse of it and yank me off my bike with one of her sudden lunges. No dog—so I loosened my grip on the leash as we approached.

As the woman in peach came into clear view I noticed that she was slowing down, just like friends do when they prepare to greet each other for a brief chat on the sidewalk. I didn’t know who she was, although I think I had seen her walking on this trail before.

Her eyes lit up and she spoke with a big smile as I braked to a stop. She focused completely on Toast… “Oh, aren’t you a lovely little puppy? What’s your name?” She reached out to pet Toast, which was always agreeable to Toast. I was impressed with how friendly she was, and so plainly delighted at her good fortune. She marveled to me at how well-behaved Toast was. (If she only knew the truth.) “I would love to have a Golden,” she confided. “But it’s only me at home and I work all day. That wouldn’t be good for the dog.”

For the next few minutes we chatted on the trail. Comparing brief notes about life, and kids, and work. Two strangers drawn together almost as if by some Great Design, by means of the animal kingdom. It’s silly, really, that it takes an animal to facilitate social intercourse between two of the same human species.

I climbed back on my bike with Toast at my side. “Thank you for stopping,” she said. Thank you for stopping? It had been a no-brainer for me. She acted like she wanted to stop and pet my dog. (A common occurrence on my neighborhood trails.) So I stopped. Turns out that simple action brought a little delight into her life that day. Toast seems to have a knack for that. And somehow… I think it brings delight to God as well.

Next time I see this woman in peach I’m going to ask her if she’d like to dog-sit for an afternoon.

Gustav at 7:13 a.m.

It’s early morning on Labor Day, 2008, and I have one laptop window open to weather.com, monitoring Gustav, while another is open to my blog… trying to make sense of another hurricane bearing down on Mrs. Float and Mrs. Lachlin in New Orleans.

Gustav is already moving over the Louisiana coast. Nobody wants a repeat of the catastrophe of Labor Day Weekend of 2005. Just like the first time, I find myself glued to the TV—half watching to witness the raw power and fury of nature… half watching in empathy for the people in New Orleans. President Bush has already scuttled his visit to the RNC in St. Paul tonight. The whole RNC has altered its schedule in lieu of Gustav. You can bet John McCain will be showcasing his leadership skills as opportunities present themselves this week. And Obama and company will be close behind.

But I think mostly about Mrs. Float and her father, who have been living in a FEMA trailer in her front yard since Katrina. Her house sat empty when I visited in January (see Jan. 26, 2008 blog). Nothing but open stud walls from one end of the house to the other. My job was to finish the demolition with a small crew and prepare her house for rebuilding. I remember falling through the floor just outside of what used to be the bathroom. The 115+ years-old floor boards were beyond rotten. Fortunately the ground was only three feet underneath so I didn’t fall far, but enough to scrape up my leg with some minor wounds. I thought it was the least I could offer on the altar of sacrifices compared to what others had suffered.

I also think about Mrs. Lachlin (see Jan. 21 blog) and her newly rebuilt house on the east side of the city near Lake Pontchartrain. A large crew of 15 of us from Calvary hauled away the rest of the debris from the final demolition—it took two days. Then we dug in and finished off the inside structure and walls, installed a new roof, and sealed up the whole house from any further damage from the elements so that her bank could issue her a rebuilding loan.

There are thousands of Mrs. Floats and Mrs. Lachlins in New Orleans and Louisiana. I don’t know what they’re thinking or feeling this morning. But I have a little idea… as I remember how I felt as a 14 year old boy whenever a strong wind came up in the late evening, living in a trailer house, in the days and weeks that followed the Tracy Tornado that obliterated our house while we huddled in the basement.

Cone-head the Dog

At first it was a funny joke. Our six-month-old puppy, Toast, went in for surgery 10 days ago to be spayed. The vet tied this funny-looking plastic cone around her head to keep her from reaching back and biting out the stitches from her wound. Unlike our last dog, Penny, Toast didn’t seem to mind wearing the cone at all. So we thought, either she’s pretty dense, or laid back. We chose to think: “laid-back.” So we joked around with her and stared to call her “Cone-head.” All in good fun, of course. She didn’t seem to mind her new nick-name at all. But as each of the 10 days of “healing time” passed, with minimal exercise each day, she got feistier and feistier.

This morning it wasn’t funny anymore. (Well, maybe it little.)

Our daughter, who was up visiting us this weekend with her boyfriend, came running into our home office with a sick look on her face. She held up her boyfriend’s cell phone and said, “Toast just ate Jeff’s phone!”

Great. I pictured in my mind the both of them traveling back to Chicago, having to turn the dog over on her belly to punch in a phone number whenever Jeff wanted to call someone… and then cuddling up to the dog’s mouth to be able to shout down her throat so that the little microphone could pick up his voice.

Maybe every dog goes through this stage early on. Just to test you, to see how much you’re really willing to sacrifice to let this dog live with you. Our last dog did the same thing. It was when a good friend of ours came to visit. (It always happens when guests come to visit.) Marcia came upstairs in her bathrobe for coffee and breakfast. As we were laughing and talking Penny suddenly appeared, looking a little sheepish, and came up to Marcia to be petted. “What do you have in your mouth?” she asked sweetly… innocently, as she gently reached down to pet her and remove it from her mouth. Her face turned from smiles to frowns when she realized that she was holding what was left of her prescription glasses. Merlajean and I both looked for a hole in the floor to jump into.

That visit cost us $150 bucks for a new pair of glasses and almost a friendship. I have no idea how much this visit from our daughter and her boyfriend will cost us for a new cell phone. The ironic thing is, of course, Toast tries to spend every waking moment next to Jeff's side. I can’t tell if Toast is simply infatuated with her newfound friend from Chicago, or if she's just rubbing it in because she just got by with chewing up his phone and everyone thinks “she’s just a dumb dog!”

Glow Ropes on the 4th

The woman was a little strange. Both my wife and I thought that. But—we both wanted to see where this would go. And make some money too.

The Craig’s List gig that we applied for was to hand out glow-ropes at a park on the 4th of July just prior to the Fireworks. It was straight commission. $.15 on the dollar. Thousands of people would be coming out. Our group would be the only vendors. For a few hours work we could make a hundred bucks or more. Plus—it would be fun. Beside, what else would be doing on the 4th of July? Why not make a little money?

So we drove out to meet with the operator. She ran her business out of her twin-home. It seemed nice enough… a little smallish, I thought, for a business. After waiting forever at her front door and wondering if she was even home, she greeted us and invited us out on the deck for our “interview.” And, oh by the way, “Would we like a glass of wine?” she asked. She had plenty of wine—good wine, since she often did promotions for wine companies. Why not? I said.

My antennae went up a notch however when she brought out a half-corked, half-full bottle of shiraz with a date of 3-24-08 scratched on the label. It was three months old! I wondered exactly what “good wine” meant in her world. But not wanting to offend her—especially since it was free—I uncorked the bottle and poured out a couple of glasses. One for her and one for me. And we all talked. And laughed. And told our stories. And she told hers. I noticed that her eyes had that reddish, sunken-in-look appearance. Her skin was blotchy looking. I guessed that she struggled with alcoholism, especially since she kept ducking inside the house (to take a swig of some hard stuff?).

We filled out some forms and were told to show up at 5:30 on July 4 to meet the rest of the group and receive our final instructions. That was it. Nice to meet you. See you on July 4th. I guess we made the grade. A puppeteer and a church planter. Hawking glow-ropes at the park on the 4th of July. I was already pumped for it.

Well, it didn’t quite turn out the way we pictured it.

We met our fellow hawkers that night: a 24ish-year-old guy who worked as many gigs as he could, making very good money while still living at home; a 26 year old attractive woman, who was already on her third man, had four kids from three different men, but drove a Lexus crossover (what’s wrong with this picture? I wondered); a 26ish-year-old comedian, hoping to make it to the point where she could sustain herself with her stand-up routines, but working gigs until then; the business woman’s boyfriend, a very successful salesman, he told us (but then why was he living in HER twin home, with free rent?); and my wife and me, the straight couple, who somehow didn’t quite fit in but were trying hard to.

I wore my yellow and white striped "Cat-in-the-Hat" hat and started selling the minute I jumped out of the car. The first 30 minutes I couldn’t keep up. But then, everyone had one. The crowd numbers were down from previous years. There were too many of us selling and too few people in the crowd buying. My wife and I raked in a total of $30. When I added up all our training and working hours, I figured that we each made about $1.83 per hour. Before expenses.

Live and learn I guess. It WAS a blast though. My wife and I laughed and joked with our new friends, the Glow-Rope Hawkers, and with the crowd. We had some great conversations. Interacted with lots of kids. Maybe even brought some joy to their holiday. We came in thinking we would develop relationships with whomever we met and worked with. And bring the presence of Jesus with us. And we did.

Yeah… I’d do it again.

Gym-encounter with a young female trainer

Earlier this week at the Converge Alpha Conference in Chicago Dan Kimball told us about a recent time when he went to the gym (a “once-every-two-years-habit”) and got to talking with a young female trainer.

“So… what do you do for a living?” she asked him. Dan hesitated. If he told the truth, would she brush him off? Maybe he should make something up? But what would he say? He was trapped. Finally he just went for it: “I’m a pastor” he said. The lower jaw of the young female trainer literally dropped, she back-peddled a few steps and fell into the weight machine behind her. “Oohhh, that’s creepy” she said.

(Creepy? Since when did pastors become “creepy” characters?)

Kimball talked to her for a few minutes and tried to unpack her less-than-glamorous characterization of his occupation. Well… turns out she didn’t know any Christians, personally. Turns out she’s never been a part of any Christian church. Turns out—not surprisingly—she didn’t even know any “pastors,” personally.

Okay, that makes me feel a little better. After all, THAT’S California. THIS is Minnesota. I haven’t run into that. And my hair doesn’t look as weird as Dan’s (uh… I mean, “as cool” as Dan’s).

But this 22 year-old trainer at the gym is not alone. Kimball said that many young people in his experience would agree with the statement made by one of them: "Jesus is cool, but some of his followers give me the creeps.

So, we might wonder… where did she (and others) get this characterization? Well, probably from the same place that most of the rest of us get our passing impressions of pastors (and Christians). From the media. And Hollywood. And on cable TV when you’re flipping through the channels and you pause just long enough to hear a 10 second snippet of a TV evangelist as he/she stares right at the camera, yelling into a microphone at you, like you’ve done something wrong.

Based on those sources of information, I would agree—pastors (and even some Christians) look creepy. But if that’s true then it’s even more important that, since I'm the only window through which some people will ever look to get an impression of Christianity, I need to change from acting the same as others in the world—but looking different, to looking the same as others in the world—but acting different.